


Passacaglia in G minor

by adlerty



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 20th Century, AU, Death, F/F, Falling In Love, Interwars, Love, Not Canon Compliant, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adlerty/pseuds/adlerty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last words, tears and flowers in the grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passacaglia in G minor

**Author's Note:**

> This is my little entry for the [First 'Ladies of Sherlock' Challenge (October): _Come As You Are_](http://ladiesofsherlock.tumblr.com/OctoberChallenge).
> 
> The story is narrated in first person by Molly Hooper.

Do you remember the first time we saw? It was in a café, lost among the sad streets of London. It was in a cold night of February of 1928. I remember James had insisted to go there and have some fun and I tried to deny his proposal, but he had had a hard day with one of his friends, or enemies, I would say more accurately, so I finally accepted. Lucky for me. You were there, so stunning and suggestive and elegant and unachievable, with your black lace dress and your red lips. Yes, you were there, singing those sad ballads and more lively jazz songs, with that indescribable voice of yours, and I swear that in that moment I fell in love. I don’t know if it was the tone of your voice or the way your beautiful blue eyes were staring at me, but you made me fall in love with you. After your little, but no less wonderful, performance, you invited me to have a Dry Marini taking advantage that, I quote, “the boring and horrible man who was accompanying me” had gone outside to have his own fun. You made me realise that he didn’t love me at all, remember? You made me cry, and to comfort me you ordered a bottle of the best champagne. I think I’ve never been so drunk like that time… And it was one of the best times of my life, thanks to you. The few things I remember of that night it was the laughter we shared going to your hotel when some policemen stopped us because we were making so much noise and they would arrest us for disorderly conduct. God, I have to recognise that I was afraid, lucky that you managed to get rid of them. But what I remember the most and what I will never forget it is the kiss you gave me before you shut yourself in your hotel room. I still can feel the sweet taste of your lips on mine.

 

The next time we met was in my house two months later. James had abandoned me as you had supposed that he would do and I went to live in Liverpool on my own. You appeared asleep in my bed and I didn’t know if wake you up or allow you to sleep as much as you wanted, but it was like you felt my presence because you woke up when I kneeled in front of you really silent. Or maybe I wasn’t that silent. Which most surprised me was that you had been able to find me and to enter my house with such incredibly ease. You opened your sleepy eyes and smiled at me very sweetly, and you pulled my head towards yours so that you could be closer to me, and you kissed me as if tomorrow didn’t exist. Since that kiss everything went better and better.

 

And do you remember when I asked you if you wanted to live with me? I was nervous, very nervous, more than nervous, and I prepared for you a small cheesecake but it burned in the oven and when you arrived home from the hairdresser you found me crying in the kitchen; and you just hugged me and told me that everything was okay. I whispered the proposal to your ear and you hugged me stronger and told me among laughter that it hadn’t been necessary to burn the kitchen to ask you for that. That time was the first I heard you saying ‘ _I love you_ ’. And I swear that I hadn’t felt as happy as I did in that moment. Because you made me happy, very happy; and I really hope that I made you feel the same way. After you came to live with me, I remember how we lied to the neighbourhoods that thought, well, knew that we were together because of the noises we made at nights, and we told them that we were cousins and the noises came from our cat. It was fun, very fun. Since then you showed me how to dress up and make up my face, and you bought me those beautiful dresses that I hated to wear because I thought that I was fat and you just told me that I was perfect and gorgeous and that you would love me anyway. You were so cute and manipulative at the same time… But it was nice because you showed me another lifestyle with those elegant upsweeps you copied from the Vogue, light cigarettes and difficult dance steps. You made me to go into a strange world, which by your hand was marvellous.

 

Months later I bought you a piano, and you played it for me at all times. I loved when you played Mozart or Beethoven or Händel or those virtuosos that you liked; and I loved even more when you sang in the morning to wake me up, in the night to make me sleep, in the shower, while you applied that dark red polish to your nails, when you did the housework, when you sang, in general. I loved your voice, it was calm and tempest at the same time.

 

At last, your recognitions started to yield benefits, and then it was when I started to see up close this wonderful world. You sang for that huge audience and I got jealous each time a man got close to you with filthy intentions or sent you big bouquets of red roses to our room. But then you told me that I hadn’t nothing to be worried about, and to be honest, I believed you. I hope that you were being sincere with me when you said that. It is a bit late to wonder about that now, though. The time I remember with most affection is the months we stayed in Tangier in 1934. It was there where we learnt to fumble through Spanish and met those substances which made us lose our minds. Those drugs were our doom. But in spite of that, it was a wonderful time. Do you remember when that short man with dark complexion dressed up as a Berber told us that we would be together until death separated us? He was completely right. But in that moment I felt that those words were like the vows of our wedding, as if after that simple sentence we were definitely married. And then we stayed up all night very often dancing foxtrots and drinking champagne, to finally end up seeing the dawn hugged, sprawled in the sand of that magnificent beaches; and then there were the other nights we spent in the hotel room kissing and touching each other in the big bath or in the bed and it was incredible because you made me feel like I could touch the stars and I could do whatever I wanted. _You_ were incredible.

 

But now I still can’t believe that it has only passed a month since I found you at home, with your throat slit, the room flooded with your own blood. I can’t believe you’re not here with me anymore.

 

You showed me that the love doesn’t understand of genres; and that has been the most wonderful thing I have learnt in my life. I have loved you so much, my lovely singer, my sweet lady. I have loved you, and I still do. And now I’m talking to your gravestone with the hope that you have heard this wherever you are; and I’m leaving you this red rose, symbol of my love for you, because I want to tell you that I will never forget you and your beautiful face, that you will always be in my mind and my heart, that I will always be yours, Irene Adler. _Always_.

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired in the composition of the musician Georg Friedrich Händel with the same name. This piece gave me the idea of this story, because to me it contrasts the liveliness of a  _passacaglia_  with a bit of melancholia and nostalgia, even sorrow. These sentiments were which I tried to show in this fic.


End file.
